One Good Day
by Jeannie
Summary: Joss obviously isn't taking Spike anywhere I like, so I wrote this for my 'Verse. Set after "The Body." Tissue warning.


One Good Day

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own Joss, the WB, and company own them. I'm just playing with them, so don't sue me. OK?_

**_Spoilers:_**_ Season 5, "The Body," "Crush," and "I Was Made to Love You."_

**_Ratings:_**_ PG-13 for language and character death. Areas between and denote thoughts not said aloud._

_Take it anywhere you want, just let me know so I can go visit._

_This was my first fanfiction, so be kind. It got into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down. Nasty bugger! But I hope you like it. Joss wasn't headed anywhere nice for Spike that I could see, so this is my Verse. And a tribute to James Marsters, who makes evil so damned likable, er, lovable, er, lustable. Well, you get the idea._

**_One Good Day_**

Part One 

Spike bent down and picked up the half-used legal pad and pencil off the battered lawn chair and sat down again in the dark. Piles of crumpled pages lay strewn about on the ground. First light wasn't for another couple of hours yet but he planned on being finished with the letter by then. He reached into his front shirt pocket for the pack of smokes he habitually carried. Not there, you stupid sod! He glanced up once again to the darkened bedroom windows of the Slayer's house.

Ever since Joyce's death last week, he'd assigned himself night patrol duty around the parameter of the Summer's home. The first night, he'd secreted the old folding chair among the thickest part of the trees and shrubs just beyond the reach of her back porch light. Cigarette butts had been a dead giveaway when he'd smoked out in front of her house before. Right now, that would never do, so he'd left his cigarettes behind in the DeSoto which he'd stashed in an alley a couple of blocks away. She'd made it bloody clear she didn't want him anywhere near her or the Niblet again. And in a few days, if Warren kept up his end of the deal, and if Glory made her move, as Spike thought she would, he'd be gone forever from Sunnyhell. Probably London, but maybe later Manchester. Yeah, that'd be a bit of all right. At least I'll be able to go to the Manchester United night matches. He'd pack himself and **his** Buffy up in a wooden transport crate along with a full cooler of blood, and a hammer, and off to Jolly Olde England on Federal Express. But for now, he guarded her sleep, just in case Her Infernal Glorious Pain in the Ass decided to try and pull something after hours. It was the only thing he could do for her right now.

Ripper, as Spike thought of Giles since their last encounter, was asleep on the living room couch. The young witches were upstairs in Joyce's old room while Zander and his former demon had the sleeper sofa in the den. Joyce's death's hit em all hard. She was like a Mum to all of em. Now, seems like they can't stand bein' apart from each other. Well, at least the inside's as safe as can be expected with a crazed goddess running around loose searching for her missing Key. Ripper and the witches had beefed up the security spells on the house. Spike was dead certain that they had done something to reinforce the chimney, window glass, and the doors. The first time he'd accidentally touched one of the windows, he'd nearly fried the tips off of his fingers. It had taken nearly all of his rapidly dwindling self-control to keep from screaming out a string of curses. As it was, he nearly fell off the roof! He bloody well planned on seeing that they stayed safe from the outside, too. He felt he owed Joyce at least that much and so the nightly patrols. 

Once the coroner had released the body, the funeral had finally been set for 11:00 am that coming morning at the Episcopal Church down the road. Funny, didn't know the Slayer went to church, but then maybe it was only her Mum's church. Sunnyhell's all too convenient sewer system would provide a simple enough below ground route to the church and Spike planned on being there for Joyce. While vampires didn't LIKE churches, it was a common misconception that they couldn't go inside. Spike really didn't care one way or the other: He would be there for Joyce and for her girls. She was a good mum and had always treated him square, just like a real person. Really, she was the only one who had treated him as a person and not the vampire that he really was, even if the Initiative had de-fanged him. Hot chocolate with those little marshmallow things and Passions, those would forever remind him of her. Besides, a church with everyone present seemed like just too perfect an ambush set up to Spike. Spike looked down at what he'd written so far, for the hundredth freakin' time, and decided he really just needed to finish the damned thing already. 

__

_Buffy, _

_If you have the box and are reading this letter, it can only be for one of two reasons. _**_NO, SLAYER! DON'T TEAR IT UP TIL YOU READ IT. YOU DON'T HAVE TO ALWAYS BE SO HARD HEADED, YOU KNOW!_****_I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST THING YOU'LL EVER HEAR FROM ME._**_ So, as you are reading this, either Glory is gone for good and I have left Sunnyhell or I'm really gone. (Read DEAD here, ha, ha, ha. I knew that'd give you a happy!) Anyway, I had to rough Willy up a bit to deliver this, but I trust him enough to get this stuff to you. Well, that and the hundred bucks I paid him. For another hundred, he "leaked" it to Angel that your Mum is gone and I've been stalking you. Well, he already did that last night, so I expect the Great Poof will show for the funeral. __I am so sorry about your Mum__. She was a bit of all right, that one. A creature of the Light, just like you. I'll always remember her kindness to me, that, and the time she thumped me with the ax head to "save" you. I think you got some of your grit from Joyce._

_I know you never believed I loved you, that vampires can't love, but what Dru said was true. "We can love, if not wisely." After more than 100 years, it's hard to remember a time when I wasn't "The Big Bad." I just want to believe that if Dru hadn't changed me and we had somehow met, I'd have stood a chance with you. _

_Well, at any rate, Glory is bound to try something soon. My sources told me she knows your Mum's dead. Well, what few sources I have left. With Glory in town, the old Hellgate just isn't what it used to be, is it? Most of the vamps have scattered for safer parts. Which is good for you and the rest of the gang, when you think of it. I know you'll be prepared for Glory at the funeral. Your Watcher always makes sure you and the gang are prepared for the worst. He's a good watcher, Giles is, and you were lucky to get him after that Merrick chap._

Spike thought a minute and went on to write the final paragraph. He was maudlin enough as it was, he supposed. Pretty much like the bad poetry he'd written Cecily just before Dru had turned him. At least this time he wouldn't be around to get his undead heart stomped on. Imagine, the Slayer thinking he couldn't feel emotions!

_I just wanted to say one last thing to you. _**_You ARE the Slayer_**_. If it had come down to a right fair fight between us, I don't know if I could've bested you. I won't be coming back to have that "Dance" we talked about, either, even if I do get this damned chip out or its' warranty buggers off. Maybe you and Peaches will finally work it out. Ask him about the Scroll of Aberjian when you see him, why don't you? You and Little Bit deserve a chance to be happy. But on a Hellgate, that's asking a bit much, isn't it? Take my advice- Move and don't leave the bloody Council your forwarding address!_

__

Finally satisfied with his letter, Spike glanced over at the barely lightening sky along the eastern horizon and got up to walk the parameter one last time. He wiggled his bare toes in the dew soaked leaves. He wasn't cold, the undead never are, but the wet, sticky leaves felt slimy, all nasty like. However, his boot prints had also shown up out on the front lawn and so, like the cigarettes, he'd left his Doc Martins in the DeSoto. Walking around, never in quite the same path, he ended up next to the trellis Dawn used to escape by when she'd found out that she was the Key. 

Why the Hell hadn't Giles or Joyce pulled that damn thing down? If she were his kid, he knew he would have gotten rid of it. Well, just as good that they hadn't as it gave him an easy route up to checked on them again. 

Dawn's bed was empty, as it was by this time most nights since Joyce's death. He knew where he'd find her-in bed next to the Slayer, where she'd feel safer from the bad things that go bump in the night. Too bad that "cerebral hemorrhage" wasn't one of the bad things that he or the Slayer could have stopped. If it were, he would have done it for Joyce. She WAS a good one, just like he'd written. If there was a Hell, and Angel had proven that, hadn't he, then there must be a place for the good after death. If the vamps he used to run with knew that he thought this way, Spike thought they would have staked him on sight. 

Slowly and ever so carefully after he'd checked in on the other two bedroom windows, Spike crept around the eaves and peeked into Buffy's window. It would not do at all for her to look up and see him playing Peeping Tom at them. She'd probably shove him right off the roof and into the yard below. That could hurt, even if it wouldn't kill him and he really wasn't a masochist. Hell, she was so mad at him right now, she might just be tempted to stake him anyway, even with the damned chip in his head. 

Sleeping they were, the two of them. Dawn was curled up on Buffy's shoulder with her fists tucked up near her face. It made her look even younger than her 14 earth years, no matter that she was really millenniums older than that. Buffy's upper arm was cradled protectively across her shoulders. What wouldn't I give to be in that spot just once? That ponce, Warren, better damn well do a right good job of it. Another quick peek and he was down from the roof for the night, probably for the last night, too, if his information about Glory/Ben was correct. I guess I could've told her about Ben. But then, it really isn't likely she'd have believed me any more about this than she did about any of the other stuff that I told her. If you can't believe in love, what can you believe in? 

Spike, William the Bloody, and the Slayer of Two Slayers, bent down and picked up his pad and pencil and read his letter through one last time before signing it "With Love and Respect, William". Over a hundred years as a vampire was a long life span for most vampires. Most lived no more than a few years beyond the fledgling stage. For those that did live, there was often little to occupy the times between bloody rampages. Spike would have been a pretty poor excuse for a demon not to learn some of life's finer points. The Gang would've been shocked to find out that he'd read most of the world's great literature, spoke several languages when the need presented itself, knew how to work the Stock Market, could play a piano fairly well, and a guitar even better. But he did have his standards as a vampire to maintain. After all, he was "the" Big Bad! He pulled a long envelope out of his duster's inner pocket and slid the letter inside along with a small, black jewelry box. The contents of the box represented a good chunk of the money he'd accumulated over the last couple of years. They all thought he was destitute, living as he did, but really it was just the way he liked doing things here in Sunnyhell! He did so enjoy squeezing money out of the Slayer and her friends. He hoped Buffy would accept the gifts, two gold crosses, each mounted with an identical rare black tear shaped diamond at the center for herself and Dawn. Maybe someday, they would remember he wasn't all bad. He swallowed hard. Damn, he was turning into such a nancyboy. Good thing that there were places where they still remembered the old Spike. He paused to look up at her window one last time before he took off. If he'd been alive, he knew his heart would have been paining him right now. Leaving her forever's a pain I don't think I could survive if I was human, unlike that tin soldier Riley. What a sodding wanker he was! Well, at least a replacement Buffy was better than no Buffy at all. Spike slipped the envelope back into the duster and took off down the street to where the DeSoto was stashed. He'd just enough time to drop off the envelope at Willy's apartment, change clothes, and be at the church before first light.

**Part Two **

Back at the crypt, Spike stripped out of his usual all black jeans and T-shirt and changed into a pair of dark khaki slacks, a black silk dress shirt, and his new brown leather bomber jacket. He lifted a long, oilcloth-covered package from the hidden panel in his trunk. Carefully he unwrapped an ancient finely wrought short-sword and wiped off the blade with his old T-shirt. Strapping its' scabbard to the right side of his belt, Spike then buckled a small, deadly looking dagger to the outside of his left ankle. Against the likes of the goddess Glory, who knew if either could do any real damage? But at least now, Spike felt dressed' for the occasion.

The sword was a real beauty and had been in Spike's possession for a long time now: since Prague, really. Dru and Spike had watched silently as the antiquities dealer drank heavily in one of their favorite pubs. The loud boasts concerning his latest purchase could be heard by everyone. He was so drunk by the time he staggered out into the night; he failed to recognize the attention he'd garnered from several nasty looking street thugs hanging around the front entrance. Nor did he see the rather pale couple following all of them up the darkened streets. The thugs set upon him as he unlocked the shop's front door, only to find their necks' instantly snapped by two vampires in full game face. Vampires usually like to keep a few things worth hocking in case times were tight and the need to run was upon them. The dealer was suddenly very sober but too late to save himself from Drusilla's tender mercies. After Dru had finished with his throat, he offered not a word of protest concerning the ancient sword. And once Spike had held the beautifully crafted weapon in his hands, he knew he'd never willingly part with it. The blade was short enough and weighted in such a way that it fit his arm as if custom-made. The outstanding quality of its' metal honed to an extremely fine edge and covering both sides were intricately colored swirls and dots, almost like Arabic writing. Spike loved that sword from the first minute he held it. After that, no matter how fast he'd run and no matter how tight money got, Spike always managed to hang onto the sword. Drusilla never mentioned the sword to him again, which was odd in and of its' self. She knew he had it all right, but seemed to purposely ignore the weapon, even when he was working out with it. She talked about it only once, telling Miss Edith "it was singing to her about death, all funny like. I can't make out the words, really, but it's colder than Death Herself, like the void between the stars. It's bad for my Spike and he would be well to be rid of it. " Spike thought Dru to be a bit more daft than usual that day. He quickly wrapped it up in its' protective oilcloth and hid it away from her in amongst his baggage. He never exactly thought that it sang – or talked - to him. However, when he practiced cutting it through the air, he did think there was a singing of sorts. That was when it sang to him of sheer unadulterated power.

Spike easily burgled the church's locked side door and had actually been inside since shortly before sunrise. Shoddy craftsmanship, that. The whole of Sunnydale lives in such a state of denial. He'd looked over the flower arrangements and opened the casket to talk to Joyce a bit about his plans to leave and where he would be going. He wanted to promise Joyce that he'd try his best to see that the Slayer and Little Bit were safe before he left town. At least right now, SHE can't tell me to keep away from HER family. And Joyce doesn't seem to mind a bit! Always was a good listener. Before he'd gone upstairs to search for a hiding spot, he'd closed the casket up again and re-centered its' floral covering. It was a large blanket of white roses with a royal blue banner that read "Mother and Friend." Joyce would have liked that.

Up in the choir loft there were several small closets and doors, including one that lead to the catwalk for the overhead lighting and speakers - Good enough for putting up an uninvited guest and a great view of the whole area. Spike even knew when Angel had come in about two hours later. Peaches slipped right in to the baby room off the back of the church and had closed the drapes and locked its' door. 

The church was starting to fill up now as 11:00 approached. Baskets of flowers and plants from friends and clients of the gallery flanked the altar area. Spike had moved his arrangement up forward so that it was nearer to the casket. It contained sprays of tiny white orchids, spaced amongst three dozen long stemmed blood red roses. His card read only " For the Honor of your Friendship." No name. The Slayer would have had a fit if she seen he'd sent flowers to her mother's funeral! 

Dawn and she were off in the back of the church greeting people, pale and all somber-like in black dresses, and flanked by Giles and the rest of the Slayerettes. The girls' eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. It looked like a small breeze could have knocked them over. Where is their bleedin' father? Spike would have been really worried about their ability to fight if he hadn't seen the large duffel bags each of them had carried into the church. They had opened and rechecked the contents before depositing them under their pews about an hour ago. Still, Buffy, even on a bad day, was better than any other form of protection that Sunnyhell had to offer. The witches had arrived even before Buffy and had run a ring of salt and then Holy Water around the parameter of the church building. Great for keeping out vamps and demons, or keeping them inside for that matter, but he wasn't too sure of it's effectiveness against goddesses, especially angry, out of control, goddesses. Giles and Zander had checked through the downstairs areas and behind the altar, locking all but the main doors. Did they think that would keep Glory out, if she really wants in? They must know Angel is here, too, because they both ignored the baby room. 

Finally, the organist came in, began playing, and everyone took their seats. From Spike's perch, it looked like the Niblet was crying again as she leaned into her sister's shoulder. Giles was to their left on the front row, patting her hand with his left hand as his right arm reached across to shelter both girls' shoulders. The rest of the old gang, including that Cordelia chick, some young tough from the Hood and even the werewolf were directly behind them. Good lay out for protection. Seven or eight stuffed suit, tweedy types sat just across the aisle. Even that bastard Quintin Travers and the Council's here and armed to the teeth judging by the bulges and bags. Can't be too prepared when a goddess comes to call. May be a bit dicey for me if they take offense to Ol' Spike playing in their game**.**

The Priest stood and had just began to speak the service for the dead when the front doors crashed open and all kinds of dust and trash blew into the sanctuary. Glory certainly knew how to make a grand entrance. Her tight designer red silk dress and spiked heels looked even more garish against the somber colors of the mourners. "So, who started this party without me and, by the way, WHERE IS MY KEY?" The stained glass windows began to rattle loudly, raining down shards of brightly colored glass onto those seated below. Giles abruptly stood up and stepped into the aisle to address Glory. Well, probably it was Ripper, Spike thought, since the glasses were off again. "This is a private ceremony, Glory. Get out now, while you still have the chance. There is no Key here and there never has been: you were misinformed per its' location." From the catwalk, Spike could see everything. The witches were busy with their hands and their potions, weaving ancient symbols into the air. In a church? Weapons bags were retrieved by those in the first two rows. Buffy stridently shoved Dawn down under their seat and back towards the witch girls as she grabbed up her crossbow. Just when Spike thought that the tension inside the church couldn't get any higher, the Goddess Glory let loose with both barrels, so to speak. 

The windstorm inside the church began to howl. Stained glass popped from the upper story's windows joining the dust, flowers, leaves, and trash that now swirled around the sanctuary. The overhead lights started imploding sequentially up the center aisle towards the casket's location near the altar. Glory grinned proudly at her handiwork as she danced around in the rapidly spinning circle of trash. Finally she stopped spinning and shouted, "I want my Key and I want it now! I am out of patience with you worthless little grubs! I have an appointment today with my people in L. A. to begin the Alignment and I need my Key Now, Now, Now!" With each word, she stomped her feet and ominous cracking sounds could be heard beneath the church's floorboards. The Watchers' Council and their agents across the aisle suddenly slid sideways down their pews and off onto the floor beyond in a great heap. The Scooby gang started to do the same before Giles and the witches managed to get them stopped somehow with one of their magiks. It reminded Spike of an old Keystone Cops Comedy and would have been funny, if not for the crazed goddess standing out in the midst of it all.

From the corner of his eye, Spike saw Angel emerge from hiding to make his move on Glory. Can't let Peaches have all the fun, now can I? Guess this is my cue to join the game. With that, Spike pulled out his short sword and gracefully leapt off the catwalk to land about five feet behind Her Fragrant Gloriousness in the main aisle. She never even flicked an eyelash as she turned to face Spike. "Cool sword! Betcha' you didn't know it's **mine**. Where'd you find it?" Her right index finger gave the sword a come hither motion and it leapt out of Spike's hand to imbed itself in the pew just above Dawn's head. "Poor demon, you never do get what you want, do you? Maybe today, you will. Now tell me, **Where Is My Key**?" With that, she pointed her right index finger at Spike's neck and lifted him up a good five feet off the ground towards the ceiling. Her left hand spun around to Angel's position and he slammed backwards into one of the church's support pillars.

Since he didn't need to breathe, hanging in mid-air really didn't actually bother Spike. He reached down and slipped the dagger from its' sheath and let it fly directly at Glory's chest, only to see it bounce off to the floor below. "OK, that is it! No more miss nice goddess for you." Glory paused and looked significantly from Spike to Buffy. "You want her, don't you- the Slayer, I mean. But she won't have you, will she? Better be careful what you wish for, little Vampire. You. Might. Just. Get. It." 

Spike felt a sudden painful thumping inside his chest and looked down to see his hands, always the coldest part of his body, turning a warm pink color. Suddenly, there was pain in his throat from Glory's grip and he began retching as he tried to get in a breath of air. Everyone, even Angel, was gaping up at him. All he could think about was Buffy as she stared at him from the front pew while she held her ground against the storm. The Niblet lay crying under the pew just in front of him. Spike abruptly realized he was probably going to fail to keep his promise to Joyce. Hideous flashes of memory exposed to him the faces of his carnage. Thousands maybe, slaughtered to the bloody brutal excesses of a demon. The Slayers he murdered. Whole villages laid waste to his mayhem. And in that moment, he understood how Angel felt all these years since regaining his soul. No way to redeem himself for all the wrong, all the evil he'd committed throughout the years, and the tears began to run down his reddened cheeks.

"Think this is your sword, do ya?" Glory asked him. "Well here, have it back." With a flick of her head, she beckoned it out of the wood pew and straight into William's stomach before she dropped him to the floor below. Not clean enough to kill rapidly, but good enough to do the job without medical attention. And Spike didn't believe that was even remotely possible. Buffy, Dawn, and Angel had all shouted as the sword had flown into him, but it was Dawn who had lunged forward to cradle his head in her lap. 

" I didn't know you had brown hair, Spike, " she said in wonder as she touched one of the longish curls framing his boyish face. 

Her tears splashed warm and salty onto his face as his blood began to run out and pool against the cold stone floor. He took a deep breath to speak and began coughing, which really hurt. "Bugger, guess it's no more smokes for me now." He grinned cockily up at her and wiped her cheeks with his thumb. "It's really William, Dawn, not Spike, OK?" "Ah, sure Spike – er - William," she replied. As he lay there, the wind continued whirling all around them. An angry goddess was still screaming for her Key, but it all seemed far away to William. The bright sun of Southern California was glinting through the partially ruined stained glass casting intense colored patches across William and Dawn on the floor. As he lay in the warm colored light, William thought it might not be such a bad day to die, after all. "Tell Angel to take good care of er for me, Niblet, or I'll kick his butt all over Hell someday." William looked up to see if Dawn had heard him. In the chocolaty brown depths of her eyes, he saw the most amazingly beautiful sight. Her eyes began to glow with swirls of gorgeous bright green sparkling lights. They were getting bigger and swirling faster all the time as he watched. Didn't know you hallucinate from lack of blood. 

"Dawn, your eyes, they're so pretty. Where'd you get them green sparklies from?" William reached up a blood-splattered hand and touched her cheek. Dawn remembered what Glory had told her at the hospital when she was described her last sighting of the Key. " I think its part of the Key in me, William. It's coming out! But I can't let her see it. She can't get me. She'll do bad, evil things with me if she wins today!" She paused and cocked her head to the side. "William, can you hear that funny singing noise? Where's it coming from?"

"No, Little Bit, I can't, but Dru used to be able to hear it. I can feel it here in the sword, though. It's singin' to you about its' power." He took her finger and touched the flat of the blade with it so she could feel the vibrations humming there. They were strong enough to cause the wound to hurt worse. " You have to take it, Dawn. The sword's calling to you. I think it may be our only chance, your only chance, to kill Glory."

The Church had gotten deathly quiet. The winds had suddenly ceased blowing and Glory stood gaping down at them from the aisle. Her arm on the left was still outstretched, holding back Angel and the watchers, while her right arm now pointed towards Buffy and the Scooby gang. Her Delicious Gloriousness was enthralled with Dawn's face and the green shimmering sparklies she'd seen there too. Her face lit up in delighted fury. "It was you, little Sis. All this time and in front of my very nose, it was you! You were very bad to lie to the Goddess!" 

The energy Glory had been spending on the temper tantrum plus holding everyone back must have begun to catch up with her. Ben's sad and forlorn face began popping through Glory's image. "Do it, Dawn, do what he said. Take the sword – Cut the head off first, then stab her through the heart and then the eyes! It's the only way to kill her. I'm not strong enough to control her. I never have been. But you are! You are the Key! You are strong enough! You have to do it, **now**!" Glory slipped back into Ben's face again. The goddess began inching towards Dawn while she continued trying to hold back the rest of the people in the room. Her face was rapturously glued to Dawn's beautiful eyes. Giles seemed cemented to his spot in the aisle, cursing and yelling out magiks with no result while Buffy struggled to free her hands which seemed captured by the wooden pew. 

William looked up at Dawn again and gently said, " Come on now. You're the brave girl. Didn't ya tell me ya could be as good as the Slayer? I'll help ya, now. It'll be all right, Little Bit, you'll see." Dawn thought that his accent sounded stronger now, but his voice was weaker. Her hands felt him returning to his usual cold self as they cradled his face. William reached up and grasped her left hand in his and placed it around the sword's hilt. With a deep groan, he pulled the sword out of his oozing wound and slipped off her lap to come up behind her. Now he could reach around her, steadying the sword in both of their hands. Glory quit advancing and fell back a step. "No, no, you can't, you mustn't. You are My Key! I want you! I need you! Don't you see that? We have to go now! No, Ben, you can't come out now, I'm busy. Leave me alone." With that she began to swat at her face and head as though a swarm of bees was attacking her. Everyone she'd been holding began slipping towards the floor as her concentration began to fail her hold on them. 

But she hadn't been holding Dawn or William and together they raising the sword high into the air. Ben's voice was screaming out of Glory's mouth. "Do it! Do it! Do it! Neck first, then Heart, then the eyes! Do it!" William glanced first to Buffy, then Angel, as they struggled to get loose from the weakened grip. Dawn was just a baby, only fourteen, too sweet and gentle to really kill anything, even if it was an insane goddess. But Spike could kill, had killed innumerable times before without any compunction or regret. One more time, what could that add to his tenure in Hell?

Grasping Dawn's hands tightly around the hilt, William slashed down and across Glory's beautiful neck above her red designers' dress. The head rolled, still screaming and cursing at Ben, towards Giles' position on the floor. Ben's charming face popped to the fore one last time and looked up at Giles. "Don't touch it. She might still be strong enough to transfer into you." 

William slumped to his knees beside Dawn; there would be no more getting up again for him. He raised his eyes to see Dawn now covered with swirls of the green sparklies. The room was taking on a green iridescent glow from the light of her fire. Dawn paused to look into William's eyes and then lunged forward, burying the sword precisely through Glory's heart in her still standing body. As the body toppled backward to the floor, the sword pulled itself free from Glory's chest. Having a slayer for a sister was right helpful after all. Dawn stepped over the now inert form and approached Ben's head where it rested on the floor. She looked down sadly at him. He had been so kind to her at the hospital.

"It's really OK," he spoke to Dawn then. "I'm so tired of cleaning up after all her messes. Glory and I have been around for a long, long time. It's time for us to go now. Remember when we talked about having problems with our sisters? I think you and Buffy will always be able to work things out together. Be sure you burn everything to ashes, Buffy," he then shouted. 

"But, Ben, what about me being the Key and the sword and everything else," Dawn implored.

"Oh, that's the easy part. Without us around to try and use you, you get to go on just being a kid again. See the sparklies, they're almost gone now." As Dawn looked up at the dwindling light from the sparklies, Ben winked at Giles, and mouthed "Training." Then Glory came back screaming insanely once more. Dawn stood and slammed the sword's tip through the goddess' eyes and the church fell silent once again.

"And, eewwww, gross," said a normal fourteen year old girl as she turned and ran back to William. He was gently cradled now up against Buffy's chest with Angel crouched just behind her out of the direct sunlight. 

"This really isn't turning out to be my day, is it, Luv?" Blood had begun to trickle out of the side of his mouth. "This stuff taste's nasty! Can't imagine why I wanted it so badly all these years. Don't worry, Pet, pain's not so bad any more. Just the cold's a bother. It's my heart that hurts now with the knowin'. Ya' see, I know what I done. I can see all their faces. So sad, really, and I'll never get the chance to redeem myself like, Peaches, here." Still with the cocky comments, was their Spike.

Dawn knelt down and held his hand. " But you're truly sorry, William. Mom always said that's what really counts, right, Buffy?" The Slayer's green eyes glistened brightly with tears as she nodded to her little sister. She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against William's lips. 

Out of the mouths of babes. Babes, babes, oh shit. William's body jerked suddenly at the thought. The Slayer's gonna be so pissed when Warren delivers that package! 

" Buffy, don't be too mad, okay. They say that imitation's the sincerest form of flattery, you know? Warren has this order for me. The money's under seat of my lounge chair back at the crypt. Pay him and then you'll have to figure out what you want to do with you. Maybe a new sparing partner." He grinned as comprehension began to come across Buffy's face. 

Before she could open her mouth to yell at him, he interrupted, "Remember when we sparred and I told you about wantin' that one good day? Well, this is it. I had me one, just like I said I would." The light began to fade out of his eyes as he turned his head and looked to a spot just beyond where the gang gathered around him. " Oh, Dawnie," he sighed, "I see where your sparklies went now. They've gone all white-like shinin' down ere." Then he spoke to Buffy, " I gotta' go now. Joyce is waitin' on me." 

His body slumped downwards in death as Buffy continued to hold him tightly. Dawn released his hand and reaching over to close the most beautiful blue-green eyes she'd ever seen. "He helped to save us all today, didn't he, Buffy?" she asked. "Yeah, Sweetie, he really did." Buffy kissed him gently on the forehead as she pushed his curls up out of his face. Beautiful splashes of colored sunlight from the church's ruined windows blanketed the finally peaceful young man.

**Part Three- Epilogue – Ten Years Later**

Willy delivered the letter and the package to Buffy the next day after word spread about Spike's demise. And Warren got his money and was told in no uncertain terms what would happen if the new and improved Buffy didn't disappear completely, forever, and fast. Dawn had even growled at him. Buffy always wondered why Warren had jumped and gotten that odd look on his face when she growled at him. 

What surprised them more was an official looking package that arrived a couple of weeks later from a local probate attorney. It said that there was a will and some money for Elizabeth and Dawn Summers to use, as they might wish. What stunned them all, even Angel, was the amount of money: almost $500,000 for each of them. The lawyer felt it necessary to point out that the sum was honestly earned through his client's Stock Market portfolio. Giles was named as the executor, which helped when Hank Summers suddenly appeared two months after the funeral and wanted Dawn to come live with him in LA. When her tumor had first been diagnosed, Joyce had her lawyer write out a very tight Last Will and Testament. The mortgage insurance had paid off the house placing it in Buffy's name. There was some money, too, from her life insurance plan, social security, and a small 401K. With judicious use, Joyce and Giles thought that it might be enough to get the girls through college before the funds ran out. Of course, Joyce had named Giles as guardian for both of the girls as well as executor to the estate. But without William's money, Hank's court case might have gone to him as their biological father. A good-sized pay off settled the case to Hank's pleasure and Buffy's vast relief. She always felt that William would have approved of her use of the money for Dawn.

This afternoon, Buffy sat next to her mother's grave, as she did every spring about this time. They had decided to bury William on the other side of her Mom, but the dilemma had been what to do with the dates and the last name. No one, not even Angel, could remember Spike's mortal last name. It just wasn't important in Vampire Society. And if Dru knew it, they weren't asking her! Zander wanted to put the real dates on the stone and would have carved a spike there, too, if they hadn't vetoed him. Spike's attorney almost solved the missing piece of the puzzle. The name he had listed at their first meeting was William Somers! Eventually, it was Dawn's suggestion that they used: William. No dates. No last name. It was enough. 

A dark, blood red rose bush flourished next to her Mother's headstone. Evidently, Spike had paid for it to be planted by the cemetery. But it was the night blooming jasmine rambling across William's stone that Buffy loved the most. She noticed a little sprig of it growing there about a year or so after they were buried; a volunteer from somewhere else, most likely. Now, it grew rampantly across the top of William's granite marker to drape over onto Joyce's headstone. During the years she patrolled, Buffy could always count on smelling it's sweet perfume from this end of the cemetery. It was a fragrant reminder to her of Spike, guarding her back during patrols in that very cemetery. And all because with a little chip, the Initiative had changed the course of their lives forever.

Surprisingly, on her twenty-fifth birthday, the Watcher's Council had summoned Giles and Buffy to come to London. Quintin Travers blandly stated, "Faith has completed her prison term and rehabilitation and will once again resume her duties as a Slayer. Your services, except as consultants, will no longer be required." Giles had coughed up the word " retirement pay," Buffy had insisted, and Travers once again capitulated. However, Buffy always wondered if her little sister played a part in the Council's decision to let them retire. Dawn was studying Archeology and Ancient Cultures at Giles' college at Oxford during that time. Buffy asked if she'd been up to London to visit the Council, but Dawn just shrugged and looked away. Dawn knew better than to let Buffy see her sparklies. 

"Are you ready to go yet, honey?" Angel asked as his shadow fell across her face. Megan, now almost four with dark hair and eyes like her Daddy, was perched on his left hip. Their 16 month old, Jocelyn, lay sleeping in her Snuggley against his heart, her honey blond curls just visible. 

William was right, of course. Wolfram and Hart had planned to use their client Glory and her Key to start the Apocalypse, or Alignment, as the minions called it. Once the Apocalypse was averted, The Powers That Be released Angel, human and with his soul permanently anchored, as promised in the Scroll. 

Angel and Buffy married the year after she graduated from college. Dawn proudly walked down the aisle as her sister's maid of honor while Wesley stood with Angel as Best Man at the altar. Giles, the man who was more Father than Watcher, did the honors and walked Buffy down the aisle. It was nearly a perfect wedding, one she had always dreamed about but never really thought could be given to her as the Slayer: filled with family, friends, and loved ones nearby. When the minister asked, " Who giveth this woman to be wed?" Buffy closed her eyes briefly as Giles answered, "We, her friends and family do." She could almost imagine her Mom and Spike standing there, smiling at them. In that moment, a breeze ruffled her vale through the open windows and with it floated the faint odor of roses and jasmine. Dawn glanced at the window and smiled before returning her attention to the minister.

Buffy refocusing her eyes from her memories to the present moment in the warm afternoon sun. Angel reached down to gently lift her up from the grass and laid a hand against her greatly rounded stomach. Even though this was their third, Angel was still in awe over the miracle of his wife great with child. Another month to go, and the new little one would be here. The baby, as if in answer to his father's touch, gave a vicious kick to her ribs. The ultrasound confirmed what she had known all along; this baby was a boy. William Rupert seemed like the perfect name to both of them until Zander took to calling the baby "Spike". Zander at least had the courtesy to blanch when Buffy promised she would pound him into the ground if the nickname stuck!


End file.
